What Happens In Dar…

I woke up outside, next to my tent, not in it. I was, however, on my mattress, so that situation must have been the result of a certain amount of consideration. What was obviously not considered was that I would wake up in a swarm of mosquitos.

Mikadi was abandoned. All over there was evidence of the previous night’s merriment. The remains of bonfires smouldered on the beach. Bottles littered the camp. My fellow travellers too were scattered around the place, some in tents, some around the bar. The dance floor and stereo system remained. I sat on the beach and put together the events of the previous night. Anders joined me there, we watched the sea. The calm after the storm.

Early morning at Mikadi. This was my view after a hard night.

The previous night had started, like so many nights before, lightly, with a dinner on the beach with friends. Grand. I had decided to take the night as it came.

The calm before the storm, relaxing on the beach before the party.

Winnie on the beach before the party.

Christina, Jens and Erik at dinner.

Dinner on the beach as the party was getting going.

As the sun set the camp was filled with locals in the mood for a party. Peter and Winnie, a British/Kenyan DJ and jazz duo started playing a great live set along with a Spanish trumpeter. A white banner was strung up between some coconut trees with a light in the sand behind it. People danced casting shadows and silhouettes on the banner, which was fairly entertaining to watch.

Winnie does her thing.

Christina and Dani dance behind the banner.

I spent a few hours moving from bonfire to bonfire catching up with the different groups of guests. There was a drum circle around the fire where my car had been earlier. There were also a few locals with guitars playing along. In the bar I found Heidi, an Irish lass I had met a few days before. She was at the bar with a guy called Michael, and apparently it was his birthday. From there things got a little out of hand. They had some leftover Jagermeisters which they were more than happy to share.

The staff at Mikadi were by now well into the mood. I remember dancing with the girl from the bar, who was usually like stone. Here she was laughing and smiling and having a good time. The Jagermeisters kept coming. Anders believed that Ski Instructor > Writer when it came to drinking. And I was determined to prove him wrong. Which was a bad idea (in retrospect). After that things became a bit of a blur.

Mikadi Beach dance floor, around midnight.

There was even a contortionist at one point.

In the morning I put the night together. It was such a blur, but I remember it being so strange. Orthodox muslims had dinner meters away from skinny dipping europeans. Many danced. Others drank. But I think it was a good night overall.

Before the party I had locked everything I had away in the boot of my car. I thought I was being terribly clever, or I would have been if I hadn’t put the key in my pocket, which is now buried in the sand or at the bottom of the ocean. I’ll never know. So Anders helped me turn the lock with a multitool. After that we had breakfast, and planned a trip to Zanzibar…

Share this:

Like this:

Related

2 Comments

As a classic car enthuisiast who has owned an Alfa Guilietta, Volvo 122s, Jag E type, MGA and Triumph TR3A in Durban, S Africa and a Triumph TR4A, Datsun 240Z and BMW 2002 in Brisbane, Australia I am amazed that you even contemplated a trip through Africa in an Alfa 1750. Brave or Stupid you may be I congratulate you on your epic journey and will follow you to Dargle in Ireland.

This is the blog covering the Dargle to Dargle expedition, a 15 000 mile journey in a vintage Alfa Romeo across the world. Check out the different pages for posts from the expedition, photographs and videos.